


Test Phase

by locketofyourhair



Series: A Concept By Which You Measure [3]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Caning, Community: kink_bingo, D/s, M/M, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locketofyourhair/pseuds/locketofyourhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can't be knives and wax all the time. Clint needs to know how Bruce reacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Phase

**Author's Note:**

> Because kink bingo, there are a few fics in this series that are more about the testing of boundaries than about shiny kinky times. This happens to be one of them.

Bruce doesn’t ask a lot of questions about how this is going to work. There are variables he needs, and then there are things he understands. Before, when he was managing the anger with his own pain, he had rituals that would help lull him into the proper headspace. He needed the lab to be quiet; he needed to be able to have the space to do what he needed to do. Sometimes it would just be yoga, some centering movements. If it had to be pain, he was ready for it. 

But with Clint, there is just acceptance that once a week (twice if he needs it particularly badly) that Clint will put the blindfold onto him and take him to the room. He’ll endure the pain, and they’ll both be better for it. It’s a simple, easy surety that makes his life run just that much smoother. 

It’s a surprise when Clint comes into the lab with a bag. “I need to see something.” His tone is pleasant, conversational, but he can hear that hint of coldness, the tone Bruce has begun to associate with the room. “I know blades and candles work for you, but I want to branch out. And I want to see your responses.” He glances at Bruce. “Whatever you do to the cameras, you might want to do it now.”

Bruce looks at the things Clint is putting on his table, and he turns back to his computer, to the camera controls that he managed to hack his third day in the tower. He loops footage. Tony doesn’t seem to notice gaps in Bruce’s time record. It’s probably unethical to take advantage of Tony’s good will, but Bruce sees Clint pull out a switch and then a flogger. 

He doesn’t care about shortchanging Tony right now. Bruce watches Clint put out the toys and switch their order around, settling them out in a pattern that makes sense to him. 

“This would work better if you took off your shirt. I’ll have more area to work with on your back,” Clint says, leaning back on his stool. “But I can make it work with your arm if you’re expecting company.”

Bruce shrugs out of his button down, looking at the toys. There’s a whip on the table, curled up and harmless looking. His skin runs hot at the idea of it hitting his back. “I could tell you if I have experience with any of those you know,” he says, and it’s hard to keep his tone light, when he’s faced with the promise the toys bring. 

Clint picks up the flogger. “I want to know how you react, because I’m not just going to use the shit you like.” He leans forward to grip Bruce’s chin in one hand. “Turn around, hands clasped in front of you.” 

He’s sliding in his own head without the steadying regularity of their routine. It’s different and probably worth further study, but Clint says, “Flogger,” and then there’s a heavy slap of leather against his skin. 

Bruce lets his shoulders drop. He knows that. He knows most of the table. He has tried most of them before. Clint doesn’t ask for the strikes to be counted, so Bruce tries not to pay attention, tries not to have the steadying _one, two, three_ in his head when Clint switches between the toys. 

He isn’t expecting the switch. It’s a thinner pain, a different crack, and Clint strikes hard over the meat of Bruce’s shoulders. The sound he makes surprises him, and the whimper that slips out from between his lips makes him glance back at Clint, to see if he noticed. 

“Turn around, Bruce,” Clint says, his voice mind. “I’m going to try it again.”

He braces his hands on the table now, stretching out. “Like this?”

Clint laughs, and it’s a quick, delighted sound. Bruce can’t gauge where Clint is at, and he’s surprised by how much it unsettles him. This isn’t the Clint who pressed a rock into the softest part of Bruce’s foot, but this isn’t exactly regular Clint, who can recite most of the _Fast and the Furious_ movies from memory. 

“Yeah, hold it like that, Doc.” He cracks the cane against Bruce’s back again. “Were you hot for teacher as a kid, or is it just that good?”

He tries to keep his back and loose. “I was a nerd in school. I was always hot for teacher,” he says, and his voice betrays him, cracking over one of Clint’s strikes. 

“I figured.” Clint steps close to touch the stripes, where they’ve crossed over the marks from the flogger and the slapper. “I was going to try the whip too, but...” He cracks Bruce again. “I get the feeling you’d like that too much.” There are three more stripes to Bruce’s shoulders, one sticking at the back of his arm.

“Whatever you say,” and he’s pleased that his tone is almost dry and amused, like he isn’t hard against the table from just this little bit of impact.

Clint slaps him across the ass so hard that Bruce jumps. “Don’t make me gag you, Doc. I’d hate not to be able to hear your pretty screams.” He lays the crop against Bruce’s skin. “Now, start counting. I want to see how long it takes for your voice to change.”


End file.
